


Always

by mooncloaks



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sheith New Year, this fic doesn't know season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 06:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17259398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mooncloaks/pseuds/mooncloaks
Summary: “Come on, we’re going to be late if you don’t get ready now.”They’re totally late.But, in Keith’s own defense, he’d seen Shiro from behind and those trousers weredefinitely, completely, one hundred percent tailored to the curve of Shiro’s perfect ass, and he knew at that moment that no party, no event, no anything in the entire world would be more important than bending Shiro over the sink and eating him out until he was shaking between Keith’s hands.So, they’re definitely late.written for day one ofsheith new year. a little look at the past, the present, and the future.





	Always

It feels like it’s been too long since there’s been any reason for celebration, longer still for Keith to _want_ to celebrate something as genial a holiday like New Years when his life has been anything but. He doesn’t believe in things like wishes or resolutions, scoffs and rolls his eyes when he hears the other cadets at the garrison rattling off long lists of things they’d never get around to do, but wanted the boasting privilege for one reason or another. 

Keith doesn’t have time for that. 

Except, that first year he spends with Shiro, things about Keith slowly began to morph and change, even though he didn’t know it then, wouldn’t know it for a long time. 

He’s stuck with mess hall clean-up duty; a stupid way to pitch in before the festivities that night which he hates because he isn’t even going to go. Everyone has been all a-flutter with excitement for the past week because they’re all allowed to stay up past lights out in order to ring in the new year.

How exciting... 

It’s been a couple days since he’s seen Shiro, so he’s surprised when he walks in—even more still as he pitches in to help Keith clean up faster. He asks Keith, then during a lull, if he has any wishes for the coming year and Keith laughs, looking at him as if he had three heads. 

Surely, he can’t be serious?

But, Shiro just smiles warmly at him as he scrubs something mysteriously green-brown from the top of a table. “I have some,” he says, so easily and without an ounce of shame. 

Keith stops, leans on the handle of the mop and looks at him. “Why?” he asks. “You seem way more together than to waste time on resolutions and wishes for the new year.” Angrily, he starts mopping again as he turns his gaze to the floor. “No one ever follows through with that stuff, anyway.”

Shiro shrugs impassively, still smiling that same disarming smile that always has Keith’s heart fluttering like fragile butterfly wings. “Everyone can always use a little motivation for self-improvement. Besides, positive thinking never hurts anyone.”

Keith says nothing, just mops the floor and glares at it as if it was his mortal enemy. The last time he’d heard any nonsense about a New Year’s resolution, it’d been from his dad and he’d made Keith a promise he never kept. So… he just feels a little sour on them in a way he can’t really explain to other people. 

“Well,” Shiro says as he drops his rag into the bucket, “I’ll just double up on my wishes for the coming year so you get some good luck, too.”

Keith scoffs on the way to empty the mop bucket. “You’re kind of weird, Shiro.”

Shiro smiles, a little lopsided and sweet. “Maybe, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  


* * *

“Keith!”

The call is coming from somewhere inside the house, but he doesn’t really do much to acknowledge it. Instead, he does what any adult would that doesn’t want to deal with something, he pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and shrinks further down into the couch. 

“Keith,” the voice is closer now and he can hear the click of dress shoes on the floor. “Where are yo—” Shiro cuts himself off with a small huff of a laugh; his voice softens immediately. “Hey.”

Keith, always weak to that tone, shifts to look at him and— _wow_ , he feels himself break out into a little sweat. Shiro’s dressed in a suit that _has_ to be tailored. It fits him _perfectly_ and makes him look even more stunning than he does in dirty sweats and a ripped t-shirt. 

“Oh,” is all he can manage to say.

The smile that Keith fell in love with before he even knew what unconditional love even meant finds itself a place in the curve of Shiro’s lips. He holds out a hand and Keith is helpless to that, too, and goes to him immediately. Nothing in the world has ever felt as safe and warm as Shiro’s hand in his. “Come on, we’re going to be late if you don’t get ready now.”

They’re totally late. 

But, in Keith’s own defense, he’d seen Shiro from behind and those trousers were _definitely_ , completely, one hundred percent tailored to the curve of Shiro’s perfect ass, and he knew at that moment that no party, no event, no anything in the entire world would be more important than bending Shiro over the sink and eating him out until he was shaking between Keith’s hands.

So, they’re definitely late. 

But, from the looks of it, no one seems to mind. The party is in full swing, there’s loud music coming from somewhere and he’s pretty sure half the people here don’t even know what New Year’s Eve even is or means, but they’re having a good time. And, after everything they’ve all been through, Keith thinks that’s enough. 

At eleven fifty-five, everyone troops outside for the fireworks. Bright blooms light up the sky in every color imaginable, flickering over the faces of everyone with their gazes up-turned. There’s a countdown timer nearby that had nearly been done in Altean numbers in no small thanks to Slav, but thankfully Pidge had changed it at the last second. 

Keith is tucked against Shiro’s side and can’t help as a warm feeling of content washes over him. It’s been a long journey in getting here, and there are things he wishes he could do over and differently, but… he has Shiro— _his_ Shiro—and there’s nothing in the world that’s greater than that. 

Of course, Shiro always has other plans.

At eleven fifty-nine, before Keith knows what’s happening, and right there beneath the explosions of colors that paint the sky a sparkling rainbow, Shiro’s down on one knee with a ring held delicately between his fingers and a look of such tender hope that Keith swears he can feel his heart ache from it.

At twelve o’clock exactly, Keith says yes.

  


* * *

“Keith.”

The call is still coming from inside the house, but this house isn’t theirs. There’s a pleasant salty air that billows Keith’s hair around his face and makes him thirsty, but his drink has long been empty since he escaped to the deck outside. It’s not his first time at the beach—by now, anyway—but there’s something about it he likes. The party inside isn’t as large as many they’ve attended over the past several years, but big enough that Keith just needs a minute to breathe. 

Moments after his name, Keith feels familiar arms wrap around him, a familiar body press against him from behind, a familiar warmth suffuse itself throughout his entire being. Keith tilts his head at an angle that puts a small crick in his neck, but he doesn’t care; he presses a kiss to the sharp angle of Shiro’s jaw. 

“Come back inside, it’s almost midnight.”

Keith just hums in acknowledgment, but neither one of them move at all. Hearing the soft sound of waves crashing against the shore, of happy sounds from inside, feeling Shiro there around him, Keith thinks he’s never been happier. He turns in Shiro’s hold, wraps his arms around his neck and presses his lips against Shiro’s in a soft, sweet kiss. It lingers and Keith doesn’t bother to hide the low, pleased sound as Shiro’s tongue licks into his mouth. 

“Ew…” a little voice cries from somewhere behind Shiro. 

Keith sighs. 

“Daddy, Uncle Keith had his mouth on Uncle Shiro’s mouth!!”

Lance, ever helpful, pokes his head outside, “That is… _so_ disgusting.”

Shiro, also not helpful, scoops up Lance's little girl dressed in a floofy, sparkly, gold dress and she clings tightly around his neck, looking at Keith as if he’s committed a crime. In a way, he can’t blame her, but he’s a little offended a three year old hates him just because she has a crush on Shiro. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Lance tries to take his daughter once they get in, but she refuses, and Keith swears vengeance on her when he doesn’t get his midnight kiss until five minutes into the new year.

  


* * *

“ _Keith_ ,” this time it’s a quiet murmur of his name, right beside his ear.

Just hearing that molten hot tone, that one that’s laden with promises to be fulfilled now and until the end of time, makes Keith shiver and he doesn’t even try to pretend it doesn’t. He moans softly as Shiro fucks into him deep, slow, thorough. 

Keith’s fingers curl slightly, nails cutting into Shiro’s skin as he drags them up toward his shoulder. His hips move to meet him for each thrust, shifting enough so Shiro’s cockhead brushes up against his prostate at any and every chance it can. He moans softly as he hooks a leg over Shiro’s hip to drag him in closer. 

“Takashi,” he rasps it like a prayer, a thanksgiving, a way of life. 

Even now, after years spent taking one another apart and putting each other back together, there’s always a hitch in Shiro’s breathing, his movements, when Keith calls him by his name. If it wasn’t so dark in their bedroom, Keith knows Shiro’s eyes would be blown wide, dark, hungry. He upturns his face to seek Shiro’s mouth, kisses him, devours him this way because he can, because he needs to.

Shiro pulls back, braces his hands on the bed beside Keith and _fucks_ him. The bed makes the smallest of noises, but Keith isn’t worried. Once you break one bed, you learn a lesson and spend a little more money on the next one. Besides, once Keith starts moaning like his life depends on it and the way skin smacks against skin, that little noise doesn’t make a difference. 

But, Keith’s ears strain to hear Shiro, wants to know that moment when he gets close enough to let himself go. He reaches for Shiro’s hand, finds it and laces their fingers together; he clenches around Shiro’s cock. “Takashi, _please_.”

It doesn’t take much more before Shiro hits that peak and releases inside Keith with a stuttering, near guttural moan that has Keith shaking apart already. He barely manages to keep himself up, and that’s only in thanks to his prosthetic. Keith’s hand wraps around his cock and within mere strokes, he comes between them with a litany of Shiro’s name on his lips. 

As they come down and bask in the afterglow, Keith still keeps his legs wrapped around Shiro, letting him know that under no uncertain terms is he going to let him leave. As a matter of fact, he coaxes him to lay down on him, sticky come smeared on their skin be damned. Keith’s skin prickles with each passing exhale of Shiro’s breath. His hand smoothes over Shiro’s head, petting him, scratching through his hair. 

“Happy New Year, Takashi.”

He feels Shiro laugh softly, a ghost of amusement passing through him. “Happy New Year, Keith.”

  


* * *

Keith’s hair has long since lost that deep black color that seemed so fathomless, but it’s still thick as ever as Shiro brushes his fingers through it. There are little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, but they’re still so full of life, so deep yet so bright that every single moment Shiro looks at him, he still falls a little more in love with him even after all this time.

He holds Keith in his arms as they move slow around the dancefloor, surrounded by all of their friends and family. 

It’s been decades since they’ve been paladins, captains, admirals. Life hasn’t always been easy since then—not that it’s ever been, if he’s honest—but the life he’s spent with Keith has been nothing short of perfect. There was a time when Shiro never imagined he’d make it to see this age, let alone with someone right there by his side through everything. 

He presses a kiss to Keith’s forehead, sweet and lingering. He’s been so lucky; over the years he’s told Keith this in more than one way and definitely more than once. It has taken Shiro a long time to come to terms with feeling worthy enough of Keith’s attention, affection, and knows it's just the same for Keith. They peaked in their forties, though, and Shiro’s pretty thankful for that.

The lights in the room dim and everyone seems to turn toward or migrate closer to the screen at the front of the room. A large, glittering ball is on it as it slowly makes its descent toward the bottom. But, Shiro’s eyes are nowhere but on Keith’s face as they still sway gently around the back of the room. Keith’s looking right back at him, just as he always has been. 

Cheers erupt around them, balloons and confetti flutter down from the ceiling and the little pieces get stuck in their hair; Keith smiles at him and Shiro can’t help the way his heart swells at that expression and he smiles right back.

“I love you,” Shiro says, quietly as if it’s something sacred and shared between the small space between their mouths.

“I love you more,” Keith says and kisses him soundly.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to find me on twitter @[bloomingtide](https://twitter.com/bloomingtide) and yell at me about sheith 🖤


End file.
